


The Lotus Gambit

by TrippedIntoAVolcano



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: AU—Avatar: the Last Airbender Setting, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Angst with a Happy Ending, Avatar Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Dabi is a Todoroki, Do you see where I’m going with this?, Fire Nation Prince Todoroki Shouto, Found Family, Gen, I think the parallels are pretty obvious, No beta we die like mne, Original Characters in the form of spirits, Quirks Replaced by Bending, Riddled with references and bad puns three layers deep, Todoroki Enji’s A+ Parenting, cuz Avatar’s spirit creatures are real cool and creepy and I like them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrippedIntoAVolcano/pseuds/TrippedIntoAVolcano
Summary: Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony...Then everything changed when Fire Lord Enji attacked.Fifteen years after the Fire Nation used the comet to slay Avatar Yagi and win the war, Crown Prince Touya disappears, presumed dead. Fed up with the Fire Lord and determined to get answers, Todoroki Shoto runs away to the South Pole, hoping to find his mother and brother or maybe just a little peace of mind.Instead he finds some new friends, some new enemies, the new Avatar, and a sinister plot more terrible than his father could ever hope to be...The Lotus Gambit: in which a seemingly insignificant piece is used to turn the tide
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Todoroki Shouto, Bakugou Katsuki & Consequences, Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Class 1A & the rest of Class 1A, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor & Todoroki Shouto
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	1. Prodigal and Prodigy: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> These two series have quite a lot in common: a line of ‘chosen ones’ through the generations, an evil sibling with blue fire, badass magical fight scenes, and (you might not have noticed this one; it’s pretty subtle) Todoroki Shoto’s parallels to Zuko. All that said, I haven’t found a whole lot of fics drawing reference to this fact, so here we are. 
> 
> So I plopped Deku down as the Avatar, and Enji as the Fire Lord, and let things unravel from there. Though you shouldn’t expect this to just read like ATLA with Deku reading Aang’s lines. It shares a setting, sure, but the plot is unique, with carefully considered character-driven conflicts. Cuz for all they share the scar and the fire and the asshole sperm donor, Zuko and my boi TS don’t act all that alike, and it makes a world of a difference.
> 
> So enjoy! Here’s something a bit different, for those of you (like me) who have read variations of the entrance exam about a hundred times too many. 
> 
> Also my keyboard’s ‘P’ key is real finicky, so bear with me. For example, if you see the word ‘hoe’, it probably means ‘hope’. Apologies in advance...

The royal gardens are still overgrown. They have been for years now, ever since Shoto’s mother disappeared. For just as many years, Shoto’s meant to tell the servants to fix it up.

He’s never gotten around to it.

But right now, the issue isn’t how beautiful the gardens are or are not. It’s much more about the little yellow turtle-duckling that’s stuck in an overgrowth of algae in a little fountain. Its mother quacks loudly from the nearby pond’s edge while the little one struggles against a current that keeps it tangled in the slime. 

The grounds are pretty quiet right now, since it’s still suppertime, but Shoto takes a look around just to be safe. When he’s certain no one is watching, he looks back to the turtle-duck. As he walks over, he wills the water currents to still with a flick of his hand. His hands are gentle as he untangles the duckling, though its mother’s noises grow ever angrier. 

He brushes algae from the duckling’s face, then crouches and sets it down next to its mom. She quacks indignantly at him one last time, before shaking her head and waddling away into the pond. The little turtle-ducklings obediently follow her in a line, though the one he freed tilts its head at him as it swims off. 

Shoto breaths a laugh as they wander away. He’s still watching them quietly when he feels a hand rest on his shoulder. Shoto jumps, and bites back the urge to freeze the whole pond in a panic. Though when he whirls around, it’s only his brother grinning back at him. 

“You still doting on mom’s old turtle-ducks?” Touya asks.

Shoto sighs. “Yeah. One got stuck in some algae. I really need to clean the fountain.”

“Dad would call you weak. Say if it’s too pathetic for nature, it deserves to die.”

“Dad can go eat worms, for all I care.”

Touya barks a laugh and pulls something out from behind his back. “My point exactly, brother dear,” he says. 

Touya tears the piece of bread he’s holding in half, handing one part of it over to Shoto before tossing a bit of his own into the pond. 

One of the turtle-ducklings swims over to where the bread landed in the water. It gobbles up the snack, quacks once, then heads back to its mom. 

“It says ‘thank you,’” Shoto tells his brother. 

Touya cocks an eyebrow. “You speak turtle-duck?”

“You don’t?” Shoto deadpans, tossing another bit of bread to the animals. 

Touya snorts. “Tell the little guy it owes me one.”

The brothers stand by the pond in companionable silence for most of the evening. The sun is hanging on the horizon when a voice calls out from behind them. 

“Your Highness?”

When the brothers turn around, a dark haired servant girl is staring back at them. She settles into a deep bow before speaking. “Prince Touya, Fire Lord Enji requests your immediate presence at this evening’s council meeting.” 

Touya groans in a decidedly unprincely fashion. “Does he now? Tell him I’m busy with important business, like eating worms or something.”

The servant girl gasps just as Shoto jabs his brother with an elbow.

“Ow! Jeez, I’m kidding, obviously! Though one of these days I’m gonna build up the courage to actually do it, just you wait.”

Touya pauses. He rolls his eyes at Shoto and then sighs, “Yeah, I’m coming. Lead the way, miss.”

The servant girl rises and leads Shoto’s brother towards the councilroom. As he goes, Touya turns and gives a tired wave. “See you later, Sho-chan.” 

-

“Are they still in there discussing?” Fuyumi asks later. 

She joins Shoto in the royal sitting room, as she does most evenings. Shoto looks up from his book. 

“The servant only came for Touya three hours ago,” he reminds her. “Some of these meetings can last way longer.”

“Yes, I suppose. I just worry about Touya. He always gets so cranky when he has to sit in one place too long. I hope dad knows that.”

“Dad’s always cranky. I doubt he’ll even notice.”

Fuyumi shakes her head. “I’m turning in for the night. If Touya’s back before you go to bed, try and help him calm down...you know how the court can infuriate him. Sleep well, Shoto.”

Fuyumi gives him a hug and pads softly to her room. Shoto tries to stay up for Touya, but eventually his candle burns low. Between slow blinks, Shoto realizes he’s just been rereading the same page of his book over and over. He doesn’t remember when he falls asleep, but he knows he doesn’t see his brother before then. 

The next morning, Shoto wakes with a start. He blinks and rubs at his neck as he looks at the dark outline of the open book he’d been sleeping on top of. That explains the sore muscles. Now he just needs to figure out what spirits-damned nonsense has woken him up before the sun—

“SHOTO!”

Ah, yep. That would do it. Shoto scrambles to light the stub of his candle and appear like he’s awake and reading. Not a moment later, Todoroki Enji storms through the door to the sitting room with all the grace of an ox-boar, and the anger to match. 

“Good morning, father,” Shoto says with practiced calm, idly flipping to the next page.

In his quick glances up from where he’s pretending to read, Shoto sees his father in the least composed state he’s seen in years. 

Enji raises a shaking fist to point across the room at Shoto. “ _You_ ,” he seethes. “Come with me, boy. We’re training.”

Shoto swallows. “Yes, father.”

The session is horrible. Worse than usual. His father isn’t pulling any punches, but worse than that is how he seems to be forgoing any strategy. Most days, Shoto is able to dodge some of the strikes simply because he knows how his father fights, but there’s none of that this morning. He just keeps. Coming. No flashy displays of power, no yelling about how Shoto needs to use his fire… just an hours long silent beat down. The sun comes up eventually, but that only makes it worse. Enji’s firebending surges in intensity. Between throbs of pain, Shoto wonders if this is how enemies of the Fire Nation felt during the comet. 

Once Enji finally calls the session, Shoto’s certain he won’t be able hold breakfast down, so instead he heads back to the sitting room, being extra careful of the way the fresh bruise at his hip rubs against his robe. He’ll say good morning to his siblings later, after they get back from breakfast. 

But as he pushes open the door, he realizes he won’t need to wait at all. Fuyumi and Natsuo both look up at him from a desk by the bookshelves, eyes wide. As Natsuo recognizes his brother, he relaxes from a position that shielded a series of maps from Shoto’s view. 

Shoto’s eyes narrow, though he winces as the action disturbs a cut on his cheek. “What’s going on?” He demands. 

Fuyumi’s at his side instantly, using what little healing waterbending she knows to soothe his burns. “You’re hurt!” She cries over him. “Oh spirits, is there anywhere I should look at first?”

Shoto leans into her, letting her feathery touch numb one cut, then ice over another. He could stand here forever like this...wait, no!

With a start, he waves her away from his side. “You’re stalling,” he realizes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Fuyumi and Natsuo share a glance. Natsuo looks away, and tears glitter in Fuyumi’s eyes. “Shoto,” she mutters, “Touya’s gone.”

-

No one will tell him anything. People know things, Shoto’s certain, but the one time he makes the mistake of asking a noble where his brother has gone, the old geezer has the gall to look confused.

The noble tilts his head, looks Shoto dead in the eye, and grins, “Who?”

Shoto doesn’t freeze the man to the ceiling where he stands, but it’s a rather close call. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo don’t seem to be having much luck either. 

Natsuo slams a glass onto the lunch table, a few days later. “I don’t get it!” He growls. “One day everything’s fine, and then the next morning Touya’s just up and vanished, and the whole palace is pretending like he never fucking existed! What kind of sick joke even is that? Better yet, how do you get everyone in the palace to play along in the span of a night?”

Fuyumi looks up from frowning at her lunch. She shrugs. “Spirits, maybe?”

“Spirits are a myth, sis. Everyone knows that.”

His siblings are walking careful circles around the obvious answer, so Shoto bites the bullet for them. “We outrank every person in the nation but one. If no one will tell us something, it’s because Father ordered their silence. That just begs the question of what he’s trying to hide.”

Prince and princess both give Shoto a glum look, and the rest of lunch is spent in silence. 

-

After the first week of his father’s new silent-anger-before-the-sun-is-up training sessions, Shoto decides it’s finally time to clean the gardens. His careful waterbending settles each of the koi fish into their own buckets while he works. Then with a flourish his mother taught him years ago, he swirls the pond into a whirlpool, perfect for washing seven years of gunk away. 

Shoto is sweating by the time he gets the pond water to stop smelling like sewage. Satisfied, at least for today, he breathes out and lets the water fall still in the pond. 

He is in the middle of returning the last of the koi fish to the water when he hears the quacking. Shoto looks over, and sure enough, Mama Turtleduck and one of her babies are below a palace window overlooking the gardens, and both seem rather angry. 

Shoto draws closer to them, a smile playing at his lips for the first time in a week. “I guess you would be angry, huh,” he muses. “I would be too, if someone went and turned my whole home upside down.”

Mama Turtleduck flaps her wings at him before waddling away. The baby follows with an indignant shake of its tail feathers. As Shoto watches them go, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Immediately, he’s ducking down out of sight as he peers through the window the turtle-ducks just left. 

The window, it turns out, is one that looks into Touya’s room. So as Shoto peeks inside over the windowsill, he can see his brother’s quarters. He can also see the servants scurrying about inside, pulling books off shelves, removing watercolors from the walls, and generally clearing out the space. 

They’re removing all the things that make the place Touya’s room, instead of just another palace chamber. It makes Shoto sick to his stomach. 

The last of the servants exits the room with an armful of Touya’s clothes, and Shoto leaps through the open window before his common sense can get a word in otherwise. 

There’s still a tapestry on the wall, still heaps of fine clothes draped lazily over the arm of a desk chair. The servants will be back, Shoto knows, to clear away the last of his brother’s memory. 

Not again, Shoto thinks, sinking to the floor. It was hard enough when it happened to mom, not his brother too. Unbidden tears pool in Shoto’s eyes, blurring his view of a watercolor painting perched above Touya’s bed. 

_“Niichan? Mom says dinner’s almost—what are you doing?”_

_“Ah! Shochan!” Touya sat in the desk chair, eyes wide and arms splayed out to cover something on the desk. He relaxed as he recognized his little brother. “Sorry, thought you were dad or someone. Here, I’ll show you.” Touya stood and crossed his arms. “But first you gotta promise you can keep a secret.”_

_Shoto nodded and mimed zipping his lips._

_Touya motioned him over, and then picked him up so he could see the top of his older brother’s desk. Held down by bottles of ink in the corners, a large piece of parchment showed a detailed painting of a pair of fighting dragons, one red and the other blue._

_“WHOA!” Shoto said. “Did you make that!”_

_“Shh! Not so loud!” Touya put a hand over his little brother’s mouth with a giggle. “But yeah, I did.”_

_“It’s really pretty,” Shoto said as his brother put him back down._

_Touya gathered up the ink pots. As he leaned down and reached under his desk, he told Shoto, “Thank you. But you can’t tell anybody, okay! If dad finds out, he won’t let me make any more of them. So if anybody asks, this painting was made by Dabi, who lives down by the coast. Okay?”_

_Shoto wrinkled his nose. “What kind of name is Dabi?”_

_Touya stuck out his tongue as he finished tucking pots and brushes into the false bottom of his desk. “Come on, weirdo. Let’s go get dinner.”_

Numbly, Shoto gets up and walks over to Touya’s desk. The memory is from nearly a decade ago, but Touya has always been a creature of habit. Maybe the servants missed his little secret drawer. 

Then he hears footsteps coming down the hallway, and Shoto is scrambling, shoving his fingers into the seams in the wood, and the whole bottom of the drawer falls out with a crash.

The footsteps pick up speed, and Shoto hears a voice call out, “Hello?” While he frantically pans over the knickknacks and art supplies that tumbled from the drawer. He shoves aside a cracked bottle of ink and a half-carved wooden cat-owl.

The bedroom door creaks open, and a nervous servant asks, “Is anybody in here?”

But by that point, Shoto has already launched himself back out through the window. He sits panting silently with his back up against the garden wall. One hand clutches a fine-tipped paint brush from the pile, and the other holds a small carving knife. 

“Oh,” Shoto hears the servant say. “This old desk is rotted out. That’s a shame.”

He breathes a sigh, and he doesn’t know whether it’s in relief or pain.

-

Shoto’s training is a silent hell for a total of three weeks, but when his father finally starts speaking during the sessions, Shoto very much wishes he could go back to the silence. 

After the fifth wave of fire that Shoto blocks with a tower of ice that morning, the sun rises. And Fire Lord Enji speaks. 

“You’re pathetic,” he roars. Shoto whips water in front of his face to block his father’s incoming flaming breath. “I gift you with abilities from the spirits above, and you turn up your nose like a petulant dog!”

Ice tower to block that punch, water whip to draw father back a step, roll through the water wall to douse his shirt… Shoto’s on autopilot now, focused only on trying to get out of the corner his father is corralling him into. 

It’s not working. Soon Enji is looming over him, his snarl silhouetted by the rising sun. “Where is your honor, boy? You’re the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. You have fire in your veins, and it’s your destiny to use it!”

Shoto freezes, and his father’s flaming fist knocks his head back into the wall behind him. Blood pounds in his ears, and every heartbeat echoes with his father’s words. Crown. Prince. But that can’t be right, because Touya was the firstborn...no.

Shoto’s thoughts must be visible on his face, because his father leans in with a cruel smile. 

“What?” He sneers. “You didn’t honestly think—“

Shoto rolls, kicks Enji’s feet out from under him, and bolts. He freezes the door shut behind him. 

He pays no heed to onlookers as he darts across the palace grounds. He’s sprinting full speed toward his bedroom when he nearly slams into a servant boy walking down the hallway. 

“Your Highness?” The boy inquires. Shoto’s shaking, and it must be obvious because the servant reaches out a hand to steady him.

The boy has barely brushed his arm when Shoto whirls, teeth gritted, and pins him to the wall. (Later, he’ll realize that the servant boy’s face showed the same fear in that moment that Shoto himself had felt just a few minutes prior. But that’s for another day.)

“Servants love to gossip, don’t they,” Shoto growls. “So spill. _What happened to Crown Prince Touya?_ ”

-

That evening, Shoto treads carefully across his room. He hides a note to his siblings in the scroll of that one play about dragons that mom always liked so much. He pulls his small pack of belongings over his shoulder, flicks a hood up over his face, and slips out the window into the darkness.

-

“Come on, Sparky,” Katsuki groans. He hangs his helmet up in the barracks and shrugs off his armor. 

All the while, his bunkmate Kaminari sits there on the bed with that same stupid look on his face. “Dude,” Kaminari giggles. “I shot lightning. With my fingers.”

Katsuki does his best to hide the jealousy in his voice. “Do I look like I give a shit, dumbass? Get your head on straight so we can head out! Kirishima’s expecting us!”

It takes a bit, but Katsuki does eventually get Kaminari to follow him to Kirishima’s apartment. Though Kirishima lives on the other side of the caldera down by the docks, and the walk must be at least twenty minutes, the dipshit’s brain is still fried when they arrive. 

As evidenced by Kaminari’s response when Kiri asks how their day was. 

“Dude! I shot lightning!”

“Whoa!” Kirishima grins. 

Katsuki just scoffs and rolls his eyes. If lightning bending makes your brains leak out your ears like this, maybe Bakugou doesn’t really need to learn how to do it—No. Stupid thought, brain. He’ll learn to fucking bend lightning, and he’ll do it right. He won’t end up a dunce like Sparky, because he’s better than that. 

Katsuki tunes back into the conversation just as Kaminari makes a fancy motion with his fingers. “...and so you just kinda scoop it and then it feels all tingly and—“

Katsuki only has a moment to grab Kaminari’s wrist and direct his lightning shot away. It still shatters the window, but at least it didn’t fry Kirishima.

Kaminari’s wrist is still sparking a bit. He gives Katsuki a sheepish grin. “...Kapow?”

Katsuki growls and shoves the dumbass toward Kirishima. “Keep him from hurting himself, would ya? I’m gonna go check and make sure he didn’t blow up anybody’s fucking ship.”

Kirishima gives a nod and a grin. “Sure thing, buddy!” 

Katsuki slips out into the warm evening air to the sound of a curious crowd. He follows the shouting and pointing to the water’s edge, where a man is shrieking about his ship. 

Well, found Kaminari’s lightning, Katsuki thinks. 

He’s not in full uniform, but Katsuki’s still recognizable enough when he addresses the crowd. “Hey!” He barks, waving the crowd away, “All you extras! Get out of here! Go on now, get a move on. Leave this guy alone, ya assholes!”

One guy tries to spit on him, but the warning crackle of fire in Katsuki’s palm is enough to send him on his way. “That’s right! I’m with the City Guard, so you all better run along now!”

Slowly, the crowd disperses. Katsuki waits until most of the people have cleared before walking up to the man and his sinking ship. 

“All my produce…” the man whines. “Mr. Guard, sir, please! If we work quickly we can still save some of the potatomatos!”

Katsuki looks from the whiny man to the charred husk of the half-sunk ship. Bubbles are rising from one of the waterlogged portholes now, and the man leans over to try and plug the hole. 

Katsuki scoffs, “Stand back, you fool,” then aims a fireblast at the ship’s remains. One well-placed explosion finishes the work that Kaminari started, and the rest of the ship sinks beneath the waves. 

The man reels back and shrieks at him, eyes wide. “Why—how could you do that! That was my life’s work!”

Katsuki shrugs and fishes a gold coin from his pocket. “Your boat was fucked anyway. No good hanging on to what’s gone. All that shit was doing now was taking up harbor space, and the capital of the Fire Nation is better than that.”

He tosses the coin over to the man. “Here, now you’ve got some shit to start over with. Maybe spend it on something...less flammable...next time.”

Katsuki turns on his heel and leaves the man to his incoherent spluttering. He’s stalking back toward Kirishima’s door, perfectly intent on making Kaminari give him a gold piece for all the trouble his lightning made, when he sees a figure dart across the boardwalk. 

Now, there’s a lot of people on the boardwalk. It’s an evening on the weekend, after all. But this one in particular is either begging for Bakugou to follow them, or they’re just a plain dumbass. An all black hood and cloak might work in the forest or something, but on a crowded dock? Now you’re just screaming, “Hey look at me! I’m doing something shady!”

On the clock or off it, it’s Katsuki’s job to stop assholes like that. So he starts to stalk his prey. 

The bastard’s actually pretty sneaky, for an idiot. Katsuki will give them that. Once or twice, he even loses their trail (he’s reminded of another pipsqueak from years ago who was also too sneaky for his own good). But Katsuki’s time in the army has trained him well. He knows how criminals think, so he sets out along a likely path. 

Through that alley, around that bend, behind that tower...aha! He sees the hooded figure talking to a pair of what looks to be fishermen, while a third person loads crates onto a small ship behind them. For once, he’s thankful not to be in armor, so he can move within earshot without the clanging of metal giving him away. 

“...kid, we can’t take you with us,” Katsuki hears one of the men say. The man’s long dark hair nearly hides it, but Katsuki can tell when he scans the vicinity with a sharp gaze. Bakugou ducks down, barely breathes, and he gets lucky. The man’s gaze passes over him without noticing. Definitely not just a fisherman, Katsuki muses. Fishermen don’t have battle-worn stares. 

The other man, a blond of similar stature, is more lively as he says, “We would if we could. But our ship just got skewered by lightning, so we’re short on supplies anyway. And I doubt you’d really want to come anyway. South Pole’s not very kind to you Fire Nation folk, so I’ve heard.”

And, damn, that’s a lot to unpack. South Pole? And Katsuki only knows of one recently lightning-fried ship, so—oh spirits, he should have known. Fire Nation ships are all metal, specifically so they don’t burn up. Wooden ships, South Pole… _these guys are Water Tribe!_

Katsuki’s about to jump out and arrest all four of them where they stand, but then things get a lot more complicated. The figure in black pulls their hood back, and suddenly Katsuki is looking at the ever so recognizable face of Crown Prince Todoroki Shoto.

The third person loading the ship drops the crate they’re holding with a crash and a shouted, “Holy shit!”

_For once, Water Tribe, I’m inclined to agree._

There’s authority in the prince’s voice when he speaks (it grates on Katsuki’s nerves). “The South Pole sounds perfect,” he purrs. “And unless you would like me to inform the guards of your...activities, I suggest you take me with you.”

Katsuki’s seen all he needs to. He backs away from the scene before his head can start spinning too fast. Princes and pirates and lightning all swirl through his head as he stalks back to Kirishima’s place, and very little of it makes any spirits-damned sense. Didn’t Prince Touya disappear off the map just last month? Seems the royal family wouldn’t know loyalty to their Nation if it slapped them upside the face. 

And believe him, Katsuki intends to deliver a good face-slapping. 

He throws open Kirishima’s door. “Pack your bags,” he growls at the idiots playing Pai Sho at the table. “We leave at dawn. We’re going prince-hunting.”


	2. Prodigal and Prodigy: Part 2

“Owww…” Mina moans, dramatically rolling over on her cot in the healer’s tent. 

“It’s your own fault,” Izuku huffs, but he’s still careful when he sets a new wet towel onto the gash on his friend’s side. “Honestly, that’s got to be the first thing my mom ever taught me—“

“‘Don’t go penguin sledding if the snow’s not fresh,’” Mina mocks. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But that was years ago, and the rest of the tribe aren’t waterbenders, and I’ve been practicing! So...y’know...”

“Waterbending can’t save you if you’re dying of hypothermia in the middle of the ocean!” Izuku argues.

“Gah! Fuck you and your stupid logic, Izu-kun! Just do your fancy thingie and let me get to sleep, man!”

Izuku rolls his eyes. He places his hands gently atop the towel, then his breathing settles and his hands glow blue. Izuku waits patiently, slowly pulling Mina’s pain out and pushing health in, all in time with her heartbeat. The feeling still makes him a bit giddy, all this time later. It always feels good to help people.

When he pulls his hands and the towel away, Mina’s gash has become a smaller scab. 

His friend breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you! Man, I can’t believe I ever called you useless. This stuff is the shit!”

“I—“ Izuku stutters, his grin wobbling a bit.

Mina slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh my spirits, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have brought it up. Damnit Mina! You and your big fat blabbermouth!”

Izuku shakes his head. “No, it’s—“ _well, it’s not really_ fine _, is it?_ “It was always Kacchan in the lead. And you were just kids.”

Mina props herself up, grimacing as she does. “But that doesn’t make it alright! We were still asses to you, and I should have known better.”

“Mina-chan, we’ve had this discussion. Thank you for your apologies about the past. I’m just glad to have you as my friend now. But healing can tire you out, remember, so right now you just need to sleep.”

“Yeah, alright.” Mina lays back down in her cot, curling up under furs. “The world needs more people like you, Izu-kun,” she mutters into her pillow.

“Heh. Goodnight, Mina-chan.” Izuku walks toward the flap separating the healer’s tent from his own. He pauses at the threshold, turning back around. 

“Mina?”

“Mm...Yeah?”

“I forgive you, you know. Just...so you’re able to sleep better tonight. Mom says peace of mind is good for healing.”

He turns around and heads to bed smiling, while Mina mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “A world of Izukus and sunshine and rainbows...”

-

They leave the city less than a day after Katsuki sees the prince. He would have liked to leave earlier, obviously, but neither Dunce Face nor Shit Hair know how to pilot a ship. Even Katsuki’s experience with sailboats—though he’ll never admit to having that—is nothing when faced with Fire Nation steam engines. 

So they had to find someone who could sail. Sero Hanta wouldn’t have been Katsuki’s first choice, but they were in a time crunch, and he and Kirishima and Kaminari got along like a house on fire, so it wasn’t the worst possible outcome. 

Katsuki ignores the sounds of Sero and Kiri tying Kaminari to the bow of the ship, and goes back to writing his letter. 

“This is a bit of a gamble, don’t you think?” Kirishima asks later, as the two of them read over the draft.

Katsuki bites down the urge to smite him. “How so? My logic is fucking flawless. You’d have to be a fool not to see that.”

“I...Well yeah,” Kirishima says, and that’s a little too close to treason for Katsuki’s comfort. “But you have to keep in mind! You’re writing to the Fire Lord, who lost one son a month ago, and now another one’s on the run. Sure, your logic is impeccable as always, but you’re assuming that the other party is thinking logically at all. And if you’d just lost two children, I think logic would be the last thing on your mind.”

Katsuki concedes (ugh.) that Shitty Hair might have a point. He balls up draft one and starts again, making it very clear how his decision to desert the City Guard was the right one, because Katsuki was the only person who knew where the Southern Village was, so he could get Prince Shoto back the fastest and blah blah blah…

Katsuki feels a bit like he’s writing one of those dumbass sympathy letters that people write to sick friends. _“Oh, I’m thinking of you!! Best wishes, hugs and kisses!!”_ Yuck. Kirishima informs him that he’s doing great, though it does take him six more drafts to successfully remove all the curses and taunts from the writing. 

They send the final draft off with a messenger hawk on their first evening at sea. 

A response arrives on day three in the middle of music night, and Katsuki has never been so happy to see one of those little feathered freaks. This hawk has a fancy little headpiece coiled around its crown feathers. Katsuki snags the rolled up letter from its back and sets it in his chair. For all he cares, the bird can play the Tsungi horn for him. Katsuki has a letter to read. 

He peels the wax seal off, and he’s grinning by line one. 

_To Captain Bakugo Katsuki:_

_Clearly, you are worthy of a title far greater than Guard, for what lowly foot soldier could find themself in possession of such consequential information as the state of my son?_

_You have already proven your skills in quick decisions, as much as your former superior may beg to differ. He cries day in and day out about a soldier who ran away. I suppose I need to remind him that the Fire Nation does not punish deserters, but only formalizes what they desire. Leave the ranks, and you might as well leave the country altogether._

_But such a fate is not for you, so long as Crown Prince Shoto’s wanderings remain no more than rumor._

_Bringing my son home—by whatever means necessary—is a mission of utmost importance. Your new title reflects this, and should be enough to avert most prying eyes. Keep in mind the importance of your mission, and the consequences that could befall the whole nation should you fail. My son’s life may very well be in your hands. May the spirits ensure those hands are capable._

The letter closes with a stamp of the Fire Lord’s five point flame, and Katsuki’s heart is in his throat. 

Short, sweet, a promotion and a threat all in one…there’s a reason the Fire Lord is the best. 

But Katsuki is working his ass off to be the best, too. And that makes the threat meaningless. He’ll bring that lost little deer-sheep back home. He’ll prove himself to his Fire Lord. _By whatever means necessary._

-

The moon is nearly full now; its light makes the icebergs in the distance glow like stars. Between that and the chill breeze as he looks out over the bow of the little ship, Shoto can almost imagine he’s back home, stargazing with his mother. The constellations are nearly the same. There’s the Sky Bison, and the Koi Fish, and the Lotus...

“...even listening?”

Shoto snaps back to the present to see the most unsavory of his shipmates glaring at him. “What?”

The boy is about Shoto’s age, and the only things darker than his hair are the bags under his eyes. From what he’s seen on their journey south, Shoto thinks he and the boy could be good friends, if only the other wasn’t so intent on hating his guts. Shoto doesn’t really blame him. Water Tribe boy, Fire Nation Prince…and he’s pretty sure the Fire Nation history books leave out a lot of what happened during the war. Shoto’s not stupid. 

The boy rolls his eyes and cards a hand through his unruly hair. “I said we’re getting close to the pole. Aizawa wants to see you. Something about whether you’re gonna need a round trip, or if we get to just dump you in the ice when we finish our business.”

Shoto stares out at the dark water in contemplative silence. He hasn’t actually thought about that, considering this whole expedition was planned in the span of about thirty panicked seconds. 

The boy—he goes by Shinsou, if Shoto remembers right—takes his silence as an opportunity to add his own opinion. “My vote is for leaving you out in the cold, personally.” His voice is dripping with venom. “I can’t fathom what a stuck up brat like you could ever need from the South Pole, when I’m pretty sure you had your every whim met back in your fancy palace. But hey, if Your Highness really wants to go on a trek to the icy middle of nowhere, the least I can do as a good Fire Nation citizen is make sure you get to spend some quality time there.”

Shoto’s used to it. Even if his home life hadn’t already acclimated him to scathing remarks, Shinsou’s verbal attacks have certainly lost their novelty after a straight month of them. 

Instead, Shoto uses the remark to test a theory. “There’s a village down there,” he says, voice carefully neutral.

Shinsou’s laugh is harsh. “Yeah? At least you’re pretty, ‘cuz you sure don’t have brains going for you. Didn’t you ever study history? Sure, there _was_ a village, but then your _father_ came, and now the Southern Water Tribe is no more.”

It’s a true enough statement, according to the Fire Nation. Hell, even the Fire Lord himself would believe it. But Shoto remembers whispered bedtime stories, when his siblings all gathered on his bed, and his mother would weave tales with her hands as much as her words. 

Besides. Shoto has spent his whole life navigating the royal courts. Compared to politicians, Shinsou reads like a book. Not that Shoto’s about to tell him that. What is he even hoping to accomplish, lying about that when they’re sailing straight toward it?

Shoto lets Shinsou think he’s won, giving the boy a quiet, “Oh…” before walking away towards the captain’s quarters. He nods at Yamada manning the ship’s engine as he passes. 

Aizawa sits in the captain’s chair, elbow resting on the steering wheel and head facing out the window at the arctic beyond. He doesn’t make any indication that he’s noticed when Shoto approaches. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” 

Aizawa turns his seat around to face him. Not for the first time since boarding the ship, Shoto tries to size the man up. Wiry frame, tattered scarf, half-dead expression…everything about him screams “pitiful hobo,” but his eyes are unnervingly sharp. “I trust Shinsou told you what I asked?”

“He did, sir. And I don’t believe I’ll need your assistance getting home. I don’t know how long it will take to accomplish what I intend to, but I don’t want to impose on your crew any more than I already have.”

“Tell me, Todoroki-san. What exactly do you plan to accomplish once we arrive?”

How much to tell him? How much have his eyes already gleaned? “I don’t see how it matters,” Shoto tries. “Your men haven’t revealed your reasons for heading south, and I find it is not my place to pry.”

“My men are not runaway Fire Nation royals,” Aizawa counters. “I ask in concern for the safety of my crew. Is there a possibility that your actions may bring them to harm?”

Well…it's not like Shoto booked it in the middle of the night from the royal palace after tripping his father—you know, the _Fire Lord_ —and locking him behind a wall of ice or anything, so there’s probably no reason anybody would be mad at him…

Yeah. Whoops.

Shoto bows. “In all honesty, sir, there is always that possibility, though I did my best to make certain I wasn’t followed. I search for a colleague of mine, who I believe may be at the pole. But in my search, I intend no harm to come to you or the Water Tribe.”

Aizawa eyes him critically for a moment. “So you know about the village, then? I assumed as much, though I was under the impression that the Fire Nation taught its children that the Southern Tribe was dead and gone.”

“ _I_ know about the village,” Shoto affirms. “To my knowledge, Fire Lord Enji and his generals remain unaware, but...my mother told me stories of brave waterbenders who gave up their lives defending one village, so that a secret second one might live to see another day.”

Shoto can see the pieces clicking into place in Aizawa’s gaze. “Your mother?”

“Was Water Tribe, sir. A waterbender of great talent and training to match.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow. It’s the most obvious display of emotion Shoto’s seen him give all evening, and he figures that for once, the man might actually be surprised. “I never would have thought. The Fire Lord and a waterbender…”

“There isn’t much my father won’t do for power,” Shoto offers. 

“That’s true enough, I suppose. Still concerning though.” Aizawa turns back to the steering wheel. He’s quiet for a bit as he flips a lever, checks a dial, and alters their course so the ship glides easily past an iceberg on the left.

“The queen was banished years ago, correct?” Aizawa asks after several moments of quiet. “She wouldn’t happen to be the colleague you’re hoping to find?”

Aizawa reminds Shoto of the court politicians, with how he knows his way around words. But his dry, straightforward demeanor is very unlike anything Shoto’s seen in court, except maybe in Touya. “Yes sir,” Shoto answers him. “Someone needs to tell her my brother is dead. I would rather it be me than a nameless soldier.”

Aizawa nods. His gaze gives away no emotion, but there’s something like fondness in the way that the man huffs. “We’re still a few days from land. You should get some sleep, kid. The ocean will still be here in the morning.”

“I’m not tired.”

“No? Then you can help me stay awake. Have you ever played Pai Sho?”

-

Izuku’s dreams aren’t nearly as pleasant as his waking hours. 

He tosses and turns in his cot.

_Behind his eyes, a faceless man laughs before doubling over, limbs distorting into horrible shadows that crawl toward him much too fast. Despite the lack of a face, the shadow-man grins, and then Izuku is screaming in pain and staring up at a blood red sky, black rain pouring into his eyes._

_He blinks and staggers to his feet. Voices whisper encouraging nonsense in his ears, but that doesn’t help. He sees it a moment too late—the enemy was hiding in the sun. Heat washes over his face and a baby cries out and then the world is on fire._

_Dancing flames turn to dancing people, each as faceless as the shadow and red as the blood he can hear in his ears. Izuku sees all this from above. He tries to squirm, but his arms won’t obey, and even looking up is a struggle. At least the sky is blue again, but a storm still rages. Thunder roars in time with the beat of a drum, and the storm’s blue eyes glare down at him. It looks just as malevolent as the shadow-man, but much more human._

Somehow, _Izuku thinks,_ that might be worse. _The storm reaches out to him, and lightning strikes his heart._

Izuku wakes in his cot with a gasp, hand clutching at his chest. He’s soaked in a cold sweat, and his heartbeat is still as loud as those thunder drums. He takes a deep breath and acknowledges that he’s not in pain anymore, that was just a dream, everything is fine. 

He sits up, all dredges of grogginess gone from his mind. Looking around, he can make out Mom’s sleeping figure on the other side of the tent, and Fool coos indignantly, pulling her head out from under her wing. It must be the middle of the night. 

Izuku wraps a blanket about his shoulders and makes for the tent exit. 

“Sorry, Fool,” he tells his caribou-owl as he passes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The bird hops down from her perch and follows him out of the tent. The moon hangs low in the night sky. It’s almost full tonight, and looks a bit like an eye laughing at him from the heavens. 

Izuku braces against an arctic breeze as he walks through the quiet village. His feet lead him to the old watchtower, and before he realizes it, he’s sitting on the bench at the top of it, looking over the whole village bathed in moonlight. 

Fool alights on his shoulder, giving his ear an affectionate nibble. 

“It’s so _small,_ ” Izuku muses. 

Fool probably doesn’t even understand him, but at least she’s there to listen. “The village, I mean. Mom says it used to be bigger. Bigger even than when all the men were still here. In the dream that woke me up, I saw a whole bunch of people. They were packed as tightly as whenever we all sit around the fire to hear Chief Chiyo’s stories, but there were so many of them that they would still fill the whole village! Maybe two or three villages.” 

Izuku brushes a shed feather off one of Fool’s antlers. “I think the nightmares are getting worse. I’m pretty sure I died in this one. Maybe twice. It was painful. Spirits, imagine what Kacchan would say! What would I even tell him? ‘Hey, you were an absolute asshole to me your whole life, but ever since you left, I’ve been having awful nightmares!’”

Fool hoots and shudders. 

“You’re right,” Izuku says, as if he can understand the creature. “I shouldn’t call him Kacchan. Nicknames are for friends, and Katsuki wasn’t that. And anyways, the dreams are probably just because he threatened the village. That’d give anyone nightmares—“

Fool hoots again, shuffling from one claw to the other. 

“What? Should I use surnames instead? Call him Bakugou?”

But the caribou-owl isn’t listening to him anymore. She flutters up to the edge of the watchtower and trills at Izuku. 

“What is it, girl?” He asks, looking out past where she’s staring. “Are the orca-seals back— _whoa._ ”

Outside the village wall is the little harbor, where the Water Tribe’s few remaining boats are docked for the night. But further down the ice covered coast, another ship is laying anchor. It’s a smaller vessel, only made for three or four people, but it’s still the biggest thing that Izuku’s ever seen that looks like that. With the help of the moonlight, he realizes that the entire ship is made of metal.

Fire Nation.

Izuku’s heart skips a beat, and then his brain goes into overdrive. 

Because several things aren’t right. Izuku’s heard the stories. The older tribes folk tell the tales with stony grimaces, but they’re all the same. The snow turns black, and then a fleet of giant cruisers approach the wall with flags flying and catapults blazing and firebenders in shiny red gear storm the beaches. So what was one tiny little ship doing? Surely any tactician worth their weight in seaweed knew the odds of one ship versus a whole village. No, something else must be going on here. 

Or at least, Izuku really hopes there is, because all the Tribe’s warriors left two years ago to help protect the remaining strongholds against the Fire Nation. So the village is now just mothers and elders and children. And since Mina is out of commission tonight...it really is just him. 

Izuku gives Fool a determined grin. He grabs his whale bone sword and sets out toward the enemy ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shinsou’s hard to write, and i keep feeling like I haven’t done him justice yet. But my bby does still have his issues to work through, and until Deku and Kami beat him over the head with friendship, he’s got serious some growing to do. Though his dads are definitely helping. Can’t wait to write his snark tho...
> 
> On the subject of things that are hard to write: points of view from people smarter than you! Not that i think Endeavor is marginally more intelligent than a trash can, but I figure he would know how court politics work. Which I am not well versed in, so that letter was a nightmare. Very fun to consider all the littl eintricacies of it, but a nightmare. 
> 
> (And while Katsuki mentions seven drafts needed to remove curse words, please note that I usually go back over Kacchan’s scenes and add curses and insults in, several times over, to really flavor it with that Kacchanese...)
> 
> Fool the caribou-owl was very much a last minute addition, as I realized “oh shit, avatars have animal companions whoops.” But i think she’s cute, at least. And of course, theres a cookie in it for whoever figures out what’s significant about her name. (Haha just kidding, there’s only pain and groaning and a sense of loss in it for you once you figure out my horrific pun).
> 
> Til next time!
> 
> —Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Before you get too attached...
> 
> I cannot guarantee that I’ll see this project to its end, or even to somewhere satisfying. And I’m so very sorry about that. I want to write this, I really do. I’m so fucking excited for this story, and for where I want to take it, and for you guys to enjoy the ride. But the fact of the matter is that my brain is a cocktail of depression and anxiety and ADHD, which ultimately amounts to a SERIOUS struggle with executive dysfunction. 
> 
> It sucks, and I hate it, and yes that’s what happened to TTWSHK; it got executive dysfunctioned for so long that I forgot the damn plot. I really want to write this, and your support means the world to me, but I cannot make you any promises.
> 
> And I feel like it’s only fair that you know that going in to this.


End file.
